Grimgar of Fantasy and Ash Volume 8

strength advantage. The golden-haired orc knew it, too.

As a result, if they got impatient, it would be easy for him, but that wasn’t
going to happen. The golden-haired orc settled in for the long course. He likely
figured he just had to win in the end. He probably figured that even if it took
some time, he’d be able to win, so he would attack them slowly and carefully.
His confidence was probably unshakable.

The fact of the matter was, if the fight dragged on like this, Haruhiro and
Yume might lose without ever finding any chance of victory. That was why the
golden-haired orc was doing the right thing. Haruhiro and Yume had also
chosen the optimal course of action for their situation, so as long as neither
party made a mistake, the one who deserved to win would.

As the golden-haired orc stood there, not showing any sign of overconfidence,
an arrow stabbed into the left side of his chest.

“...Whuh?” Yume tilted her head to the side.

Yume’s bow still had an arrow nocked. The shooter wasn’t Yume.

The golden-haired orc let out a low groan, but braced himself and turned to
face in the direction the arrow had flown from. When he did, another arrow
pounded into his right arm. Without missing a beat, a third arrow struck the
center of his chest. They were easily penetrating his armor. What a powerful
bow. The golden-haired orc dropped to one knee.

“To think you’d use me.” Kuro emerged from the fog. His bow was slung over
his back, and he had a single-edged sword in his hand. It was similar to the
katanas the orcs wielded. “You’re a cheeky one.”

The golden-haired orc stood up, switching his katana to his left hand. Even
though it was his off hand, his slashing blows were still sharp. Still, Kuro
deflected them easily, then decapitated the golden-haired orc.

“Use you?” Haruhiro let out a small sigh. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Don’t go counting on me. I’m the kind of guy who wants to look the other
way when people start having expectations of him.” Kuro collected his arrows
from the golden-haired orc’s corpse, waving casually to them as he vanished
into the fog once more.

“Haru-kun, were you thinkin’ that Kuroron’d come?” Yume asked.

“I figured, at worst, we could hold out until Kajita finished off the other two
orcs and came to help. That was the idea, at least.”

Haruhiro looked over in Kajita’s direction. The man had just cut down one of
the orcs with his massive mushroom sword, so there was just one left to go.

No, it looked like there were reinforcements. It was misty, so Haruhiro could
only make out silhouettes at this point, but there were one orc and one
undead. He gestured to Yume, and they were about to go intercept with the
incoming reinforcements when the orc collapsed, and the undead came to a
halt. Had Kuro done that?

“Drahhhhhhhhh!” Kajita roared, pressuring the orc he was up against.

He pushed, and pushed.

Not only was he not losing to the orc in a contest of strength, he was totally
winning. The undead that had temporarily come to a halt rushed forward,
probably intending to support the orc, but he didn’t make it in time.

Kajita’s massive mushroom sword smashed the katana that the orc was
desperately flailing around in half. In that moment, the battle was decided.

Kajita stepped in boldly, kicking the orc to the ground, then whaled on him
with his massive mushroom sword. The orc’s head was pulverized and
splattered.

Without stopping to take a breath, Kajita went to attack the undead. He
didn’t need any help. Haruhiro and Yume nodded to one another, then decided
to move forward.

They felt something pulling them further and further forward. The leader of
the Typhoon Rocks, Rock, was up ahead.

Kuro, Moyugi, Kajita, Sakanami, and Tsuga. Just what was Rock, the man who
led this group of uncommonly intense personalities, like? Would he be as much
of a weirdo as the rest of them? Or would he have a surprising amount of
common sense? Honestly, when it came to famous volunteer soldiers,
especially those who led parties or clans, it felt like there were hardly any that

were lacking for personality. If any of them were normal—no, if any of them
had common sense—it would be Shinohara-san of Orion, and maybe that was
about it?

Someone like Haruhiro would never become famous. Still, given that an
ordinary party led by a plain, mediocre leader like him was in the Day Breakers,
it was possible that they had already been standing out in a bad way. On top of
that, they’d been stranded in the Dusk Realm, so everyone must have been
convinced they were wiped out. They’d probably already started to forget
them.

When people found out they were actually alive, and they’d made it back,
might they actually get talked about a lot? Like, no matter where they went,
people would make a joke out of it and tease them? Maybe they’d be better off
not returning to Alterna?

Of course, he was getting ahead of himself. Way too far ahead. It wasn’t even
certain that they could make it back yet. For now, he had to focus his energies
on making it back in one piece. In order to do that, first they needed to make it
through this battle.

Well, no matter how he psyched himself up, and no matter how he wracked
his brains for what little wisdom was to be found in them, there would still be
domains he couldn’t hope to set foot in.

“...They’re going at it.” Haruhiro came to stop.

Yume came to a stop next to him. “Hochow...” She let out a weird expression
of surprise.

One-on-one.

There was a human man and a four-armed undead that was apparently a
double arm fighting in single combat.

That double arm’s dangerous. Haruhiro could tell it at a glance. First of all, he
was quad wielding. He had a katana in each of its hands, and controlled them
freely.

Haruhiro had confidence that if he took him on, he’d get killed before he
could do a thing. Though, maybe that wasn’t what you’d call confidence.

Also, his movements were clearly very quick. While his speed varied, he never
came to a stop, not even for a moment. That double arm was an uninterrupted
flow of motion. The strokes of his four katanas had a smooth and natural
beauty. They were graceful, even. Yet they still had a fierceness to them. The
double arms’ attacks were like a clear stream, yet also a raging river, and that
man was using just one sword to either deflect them, or turn them aside.

It was unbelievable.

After all, that man whose hair was standing on end for some reason... he was
short.

If you looked at another famous volunteer soldier, “One-on-One” Max of Iron
Knuckle was by no means a big man, but he was still around the same height as
Haruhiro.

This man was even shorter than Ranta, who was already shorter than
Haruhiro. He might not be much over 160 centimeters tall.

There were times when flexibility beat brute strength. Just because someone
was big, that didn’t necessarily mean they were strong. Even so, body size was a
major weapon. In close combat, the smaller a person’s body, the greater the
disadvantage they were at. Even Haruhiro, with his one hundred and seventy-
two centimeters, had to admit he wished he was taller. Even if he couldn’t be as
tall as Kuzaku, he’d have liked to be one hundred and eighty centimeters.

The double arm was probably over one hundred and eighty-five centimeters
tall. He was over twenty centimeters taller than the man, and had twice as
many arms, too. When it came to weapons, he had four times as many.

On top of that, the man’s sword wasn’t long. It wasn’t a short sword, but it
was on the short side.

He can’t win like that, thought Haruhiro.

No matter how he looked at it, the man didn’t stand a chance.

In fact, as the man jumped left and right, backed away, ducked, and rolled, he
seemed to be having a hard enough time just blocking and dodging the double
arm’s four katanas. It wouldn’t have been surprising to see him get hit at any
moment. It was only a matter of time. That man was on the edge, but managing

to hold out somehow.

Haruhiro couldn’t even gulp. That’s scary. The double arm’s gonna get him.
It’ll get him for sure. I want to close my eyes. Wait...

That man, just now, did he do something? Did he draw another sword,
maybe? But he’s only holding the one. Does that mean he drew a different
sword, then exchanged it with the one he was using before? Looks like he
returned the sword he was using before to its sheathe. What for?

Haruhiro didn’t know, but the man went on the attack at the same time he
switched swords.

“Ha ha ha ha!” the man laughed, launching a fierce assault. The quad wielding
double arm was immediately forced onto the defensive.

Haruhiro couldn’t keep up with the man’s swordwork. It wasn’t because of
the distance, or the fog, he was just that fast. The man swung his sword faster
than the eye could see, advancing in almost a straight line. He rushed forward
with tremendous force.

Just when Haruhiro thought he understood, the man changed his grip on the
sword, this time moving around to the double arm’s right-hand side, or maybe
to his left-hand side, and launching slashing attacks.

The double arm was amazing, too, for being able to respond to this sudden
change-up. On top of that, the double arm began to counterattack. When he
did, the man changed his grip on the sword, and went into charging mode.

The double arm—did not back away. He caught the man’s sword, using two of
his katanas like a pair of scissors, then counterattacked with the remaining two.
The man discarded his sword without hesitation, drawing the other one. The
two changed roles as attacker and defender at a dizzying speed.

Haruhiro had goosebumps. His breath was short. This was no time to be
staring intently, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Yahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” A shrieking battle cry tore through the
foggy sky.

He hadn’t anticipated the appearance of an intrusion, so Haruhiro was struck

dumb. Could anyone intervene in a serious battle between that man and the
double arm?

But she stepped in boldly. Long black hair. That was a human woman. The
woman sprang forward, katana at the ready, launching herself towards the
double arm the man was facing.

“Arara?!” the man turned and shouted. The double arm wasn’t about to let
that opening slip by.

The double arm’s four katanas closed in on the man. With no other choice,
the man leapt backwards.

When the double arm tried to immediately follow up with another attack, the
woman with disheveled hair took a slash at him.

“This is for Tatsuru-sama! Prepare yourself! Yahhhhhhh!”

This was a surprise. The woman wasn’t half bad, either. Holding her katana in
two hands, she thrust once, then twice, with a combo attack that was like a line
of spears, and made the double arm back away. That said, she couldn’t keep
thrusting forever. Eventually the woman’s hands stopped—in order to lure the
double arm into a counterattack, at which point she made a return thrust, and a
return slash targeting his legs, and then, when that was dodged, she thrust, and
thrust, and thrust like crazy to push him back.

“Arara!” The man picked up the sword he had discarded earlier, then attacked
the double arm once more. “I told you I’d take Arnold!”

Two against one. The double arm was on the ropes. That was how it looked to
Haruhiro.

“Do you mean to say I cannot best him with my level of skill?!” Even as the
woman shouted back at him, her katana didn’t rest. “Even if I lack the power, I
must slay this one by myself!”



Haruhiro felt like he was starting to grasp their situation. This woman was
Arara, and Arnold was apparently the double arm’s name. Arara had said
something like, This is for Tatsuru-sama! when she’d attacked Arnold. He didn’t
know if this Tatsuru-sama was a relative of hers, or what, but it was clear he
had been someone important to her. Arnold had killed him. Arara was seeking
vengeance.

The short man with his hair standing on end was probably Rock. Rock seemed
to be helping her for some reason.

“So it’s gonna be a joint project between me and Arara, huh?” Rock called.
“Ha ha! Well, that’ll be fun for me!”

“Don’t talk nonsense!”

“I’m not kidding, I’m serious here!”

“Then that’s even more reason!”

Though they were arguing, Rock and Arara were in sync as they unleashed a
fierce attack. They rained blows on Arnold from both sides in rapid succession,
so the double arm didn’t have a lot of leeway to work with. He was stuck on the
defensive, and his moves were clearly becoming more chaotic.

“Ha ha ha ha!” Rock got behind Arnold. “This is after I went to all that trouble
to fight you one-on-one!”

At the last possible moment, Arnold managed to knock back Rock’s sword
with one of his katanas.

Instantly, Arara cried, “Yahhhhhhhhhh!” and thrust from directly in front of
him.

While Arnold twisted his head to avoid it, he also used two katanas to deflect
it at the same time. If he had only dodged, Arara would surely have used a
second thrust to inflict a severe wound on Arnold. Having her katana knocked
aside by two katanas threw Arara off balance, but Rock was there.

When Arnold started to turn, Rock launched a combo attack on him. “Rah,
rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rahhhh!”

It hit Arnold when he wasn’t in a very good stance. He managed to block with

his four katanas up until around the sixth or seventh blow. He missed the one
after that, leaving Arnold with a shallow wound on one of his arms. Maybe that
made him panic, because he rolled forward as if he had tripped on something.

Now, thought Haruhiro. You can do this. Right there. Get him.

No matter how he looked at it, this was the perfect chance. Rock was about
to spring on Arnold, too, but for some reason he stopped himself. Not only that,
he leapt backwards. “Arara!”

Arara inhaled sharply. Maybe she had sensed something. Instead of falling
straight backwards, she tried to move diagonally as she distanced herself from
Arnold. It was hard to think she’d been too slow. Arara had reacted quickly. But,
still, she didn’t make it in time.

In an instant, Arnold transformed into a whirlwind.

That wasn’t even a metaphor. When Arnold suddenly leapt spinning into the
air, he did, in fact, seem like a little whirlwind, and he tore into Arara’s back
with the force of one. Having taken a wound at least deep enough to draw
blood, Arara collapsed to the ground. If Rock hadn’t scooped her up as he fled,
who knows what might have happened. Arara might have been chopped up by
Arnold’s four katanas.

“Retreat!” Rock bellowed as he ran. “Arara’s down! Retreat!”

“KYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.”

It was a noise like miasma violently gushing forth from the bowels of the
earth to make all things rot away. Was that a voice?

Arnold had his head thrown back, and his arms spread wide. Was he coming?
Or wasn’t he? Of course he was coming.

Haruhiro grabbed Yume’s arm and took off running. Even if he hadn’t taken
her arm, all it would have taken was one word. That was all it would have taken,
but, for some reason, his voice wouldn’t come out. He felt like it would be best
if it didn’t.

For now, he had to shut up and run. Run for it. He had to put as much
distance as he could between them and this place, and that guy, Arnold, and he

needed to do it as fast as possible.

Don’t look back, he warned himself. If you’ve got time to do that, work your
legs harder.

Yume seemed to agree with Haruhiro. They were almost racing to see who
could flee the fastest.

Soon, Kajita’s back came into view. Kajita was running for it, too.

For now, let’s follow Kajita, decided Haruhiro. We’ll run as far as we can. To
the ends of the earth, if we have to.

It was run or die.

He’d kill them for sure.

Arnold. That undead. That double arm was dangerous.

Haruhiro prayed that Arnold hadn’t noticed Yume and him. If Arnold wasn’t
looking for them, they might make it somehow. But, if he was, running might
not do them any good. They could struggle all they wanted, but he’d still catch
them and cut them down.

Haruhiro was already winded. His throat, his chest, and his sides were all
screaming out in pain. Even so, he didn’t slow down. Stopping for a break was
out of the question.

“Fwah...” Yume collapsed.

Haruhiro immediately dragged her to her feet.

When he glanced around, he saw that Kajita had stopped and was looking to
the rear. He turned to them, and gave them the thumbs-up.

It’s safe now. Was that what it meant? Could they trust that?

Haruhiro wasn’t sure, but he must have run out of steam, because his body
felt like it had lost all its bones. He was all limp. It might not have been
completely impossible, but he didn’t think he could run any more.

He’d made Yume stand up for a moment, but she’d slumped down again right
there.

“Th... Th-That sure was scary...” Yume said.

As the leader, Haruhiro wanted to put up a false front of bravado. He
couldn’t.

“I-It sure was...”

7. Master Choice

It’d be easier to just die.
This wasn’t the first time Merry had felt this way.
After she’d lost three of her original comrades at once, for a while, quite a
long while, day in and day out, she had wanted to die. To be more precise, she
had been at the mercy of feelings of regret, self-blame, and loss, and she hadn’t
been able to think of anything but death that might free her from them.
She had contemplated ending her life, but had felt it would be wrong. Her
comrades had basically sacrificed themselves to let her survive. It was thanks to
them that she was alive, so how could she die? Unless she suffered far, far
more, it would all be a lie. This was a punishment she deserved.
That was how she’d felt, so even when things had gotten so hard that it felt
like it would be easier to die, she’d never died. She couldn’t have allowed
herself to.
But this time, it was different. She might actually be better off dead. In fact,
she questioned why she had to live.
After all, from here on, they were going to do horrible, repulsive things to her
that she didn’t even want to imagine. She didn’t want to imagine them, but
they still crossed her mind. What were the orcs going to do to her? Was that
goblin going to humiliate her, too?
No.
I’m not kidding.
I’m going to die.
That’s right. I’ll bite through my tongue and die.

Oh, but dying might not stop them from defiling her lifeless body. What did
she care what happened once she was dead? But still, the thought was hard to
take.

No. No. No. No.

“Merry.”

“...Huh?” Merry raised her face and looked next to her.

Ranta looked enervated, and he was sweating profusely. Like the shadow of
death was hanging over him.

Even so, she thought, You don’t have it so bad. They’re only going to kill you.

She was in for more than that. They’d torment her all they liked, torturing her
body and soul, and then kill her in some brutal way when they were done with
her. That was the fate waiting for Merry.

She wanted to scream as loud as she could, You think you can understand
how I feel right now?!

Of course, that would be taking it out on the wrong person.

Merry desperately tried to steady her breathing. “...What?”

“No... It’s just, I called your name a bunch of times, but you didn’t answer...”

“A bunch of times?”

“You didn’t hear me?”

“That’s...” Merry shook her head, and blinked. Yes, a bunch of times. “...not
true. I could hear you. But even if I had responded, it wasn’t like anything was
going to change.”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Ranta complained. “I was worried about
you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Don’t try to act tough. It’s just awkward if you tell me not to worry when
you’re looking like that.”

“I’m perfectly—”

Her vision blurred, catching her off guard.

Tears. She was about ready to cry.

“I’m fine.” Merry shut her eyes tight. “I’m okay.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re so not cute.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“Seriously, your face is the only thing you’ve got going for you. Your
personality is terrible.”

“You’re the last person I want to hear that from.”

“No, no, no. Even the great Ranta-sama is nothing compared to you,” Ranta
told her. “I couldn’t possibly compare to your level of spitefulness. That
stubbornness could end a love that lasted a hundred years. You’ve perfected
the art of repelling others.”

“Be as repelled as you want. It’d be convenient for me.”

Ranta clicked his tongue. He didn’t stop there, though; he did it a second and
third time. There was nothing more annoying.

But, thanks to that, she was feeling a little less afraid. The fear would bubble
back up in no time, and she’d be right back where she started, but now she
could think more clearly than before. This was how weak fear could make
people. If, right now, she were offered conditions that were less terrible than
her worst imaginings, she’d easily submit. Merry had no confidence that she’d
be able to cling to her pride.

That was why she had been hoping to die before they made her fall into true
despair. It would be easier.

Or perhaps, even if she fell as far as she could possibly fall, she should still
cling to her life?

Whichever she chose, she would probably never see any of her comrades
other than Ranta again.

Yume. Shihoru. We had finally managed to become friends.

Kuzaku, I’m sorry for what I did to you.

Haruhiro. Haru...

Save me.

That was the one thing she couldn’t say. She couldn’t think it, either. She was
already feeling weak, and it would only make her more fragile.

She didn’t want Ranta to see that. When they did whatever it was they were
going to do, she didn’t want Ranta—didn’t want one of her comrades to see it.
However, that wasn’t Merry’s choice to make. In order to make her taste the
most bitter humiliation, they might defile her right in front of Ranta. She had to
be prepared for that.

She would have to bear it without crying and screaming. She’d have to just
endure. She’d have to make them think tormenting her any more would be
boring. That was the one way Merry could resist. If that was all there was, that
was what she would do.

Don’t tremble. Don’t look down. Keep your chin up.

There was a goblin petting a big black wolf by the mouth of the cave. She
couldn’t see that middle-aged man. There were a number of orcs milling about.
Undead, too. There was a pack of black wolves. Lots of cat-like creatures.

Fog. White fog.

She burned all of it into her retinas.

Merry would die here. Probably in the worst way imaginable. But she
wouldn’t curse the fact she had ever lived, and she wouldn’t reject it. No matter
what happened, that was the one thing she wouldn’t do.

“Ranta.”

“...Huh?”

“Thanks,” she said. “For your concern.”

“You id... D-Don’t be like that, girl. I’m not...”

“‘Girl’?” she asked archly.

“S-Sorry, Merry-san...”

It was so silly, she smiled, even if only a little.

Honestly, she wished she could thank the rest of their comrades, too. She
wanted to thank them all properly, in her own words. To tell them they were all
important to her, and she loved them. But that wish wasn’t going to come true.
So, at the very least, she’d thank Ranta.

Honestly, Ranta had done more to offend her than anything else. She could
never like him as a person, but he wasn’t all bad, she understood that he had
some strengths, too. Even if she didn’t like him, he was an irreplaceable
comrade.

Merry spoke. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Oh? Sure. ...Wh-What?”

“No matter what happens, don’t pity me. I want to stay strong, but I may lose.
If that happens, you can mock me, but whatever you do, don’t pity me.”

“Got it,” Ranta replied instantly. “I swear to Lord Skullhell. I won’t pity my
comrades. No matter what happens, okay? ...Merry.”

“What?”

“Don’t give up. Because I won’t give up. As long as we’re still alive, we haven’t
lost.”

“Sure.” Merry couldn’t bring herself to think like Ranta. However, she felt it
was important to respect his resolve. She wanted to respect it.

She hoped that Ranta would survive somehow. Knowing Ranta, he wouldn’t
care about appearances, and he’d probably plead for his life or do whatever it
took to keep on living.

She sat up straight. Puffed out her chest. The ropes bit into her skin, painfully.
That was no big deal. This didn’t even take perseverance to endure. She put the
horrific things she’d imagined out of her mind. When she tried to think happy
thoughts, it made her want to cry.

No, she thought. I want to be with everyone a little longer. This can’t be the
end. I don’t want this.

But when she remembered that someone like her had been allowed to meet
such wonderful comrades, and had spent good times and bad times with them,
she reconsidered. She realized she should be grateful for what she’d had.

Her life hadn’t been in vain. She’d been blessed. Even if it ended in a horrific
way, that didn’t make the time she had spent with her comrades worthless.

The moment that all of the wolves and cat-like creatures turned to look in the
same direction at once, Merry sensed that the time had finally come.

What had happened? What was about to happen? Merry didn’t know, but it
was nothing ordinary. That was the one thing she did know.

The goblin stood up. The big black wolf, on the other hand, lay prone. The rest
of the black wolves emulated the big one. The cat-like creatures opened their
eyes wide, breathing shallowly through their noses. They looked tense. The orcs
and undead spread their legs, putting their hands on their hips, and bent at the
waist to bow their heads a little.

That middle-aged man appeared from beyond the fog. He was bringing
someone with him. Two people, actually.

It was hard to see them, but one was rather large. That figure had a massive
body. Was it an orc? Even if it was, it was way too big. Was it a giant or
something?

The other was human, or perhaps an undead. That figure wasn’t much taller
or shorter than the middle-aged man, so it probably wasn’t an orc.

In the time they were approaching, up until she could make out what they
looked like, Merry would never have imagined they both were orcs. One was
easily two and a half meters tall, while the other was maybe only one hundred
and eighty centimeters tall. Because one of the two was so massive, it made the
other look almost delicate in comparison.

It seemed orcs had a custom of dying their body hair in vibrant colors.
However, these two were different. They both had wavy hair that was black to
the point of being glossy.

The small orc was probably the older of the two. It wasn’t that the orc looked
old; he just exuded an aura of calmness.

It’s that orc, Merry thought.

The one the black wolves, orcs, and undead respected wasn’t the big one.
She’d never seen an orc like that small one before. His skin had a gray
undertone, his eyes were a piercing orange, both of which were distinctive, but
the most noticeable thing was that outfit.

It was a deep blue fabric with a pattern of silver flowers scattered around, but
what would it be called? Was it a kimono? Whatever it was, it was beautifully
tailored. It was a sleeved outfit that opened in the front, which went down to
just below his knees and was tied shut with a thin belt. Instead of shoes, he
wore something like sandals. The long object he wore at his belt seemed to be a
weapon, but you wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t looking closely. The beasts
and the orcs clearly both feared and respected him. Despite that, he didn’t have
a particularly imposing or oppressive air about him. He was calm and quiet, and
yet, at the same time, though he was short for an orc, he was big. His presence
had a sense of grandeur about it. No, of broadness, perhaps. Or depth. That felt
like another appropriate way to describe it.

Looking at them again, the massive orc seemed to be trying to imitate the
little one. It was clear that he admired the smaller orc, and couldn’t help but to
emulate his dress and manner.

That little orc, he was the boss. In this group which was composed of orcs,
undead, goblins, beasts, and even humans, that orc was the central figure, the
one who had brought them all together.

The next thing she knew, the middle-aged man and the two orcs had come up
right next to Merry and Ranta.

Then there was the sudden sound of flapping wings, surprising Merry.
Something flew down out of the fogbound skies.

A bird. Not a little one. A bird of prey. An eagle, perhaps?

One black feather fell from those powerful, flapping wings and fell to the
ground in front of Merry’s knees.

The great black eagle landed on the little orc’s shoulder. Though he was little
for an orc, he still had broad enough shoulders that such a large bird could use

them as a perch. His chest was thick, and his arms and neck were fat. Even so,
he gave off the impression of being lithe rather than strong.

“Jumbo.” The middle-aged man gestured towards Merry and Ranta with his
chin, then said something incomprehensible. It was probably in the orcish
language.

The small orc nodded. His orange eyes were fixed on Merry. His pupils
seemed to shine. It might not have been the time or place for such thoughts,
but Merry found them beautiful. The whites of his eyes were as pale as a
baby’s.

In her head, she understood that orcs were an intelligent race, in no way
lesser than humans. However, she had to acknowledge that she’d been
prejudiced against them, viewing them as savage and frightening. That was why
Merry was so taken aback.

She couldn’t find an appropriate expression for it, but if she were to use the
closest word she could think of, that orc seemed noble. He had a grace about
him, a refinement. That said, it was still too early to start hoping he wouldn’t do
anything rough. That would be nothing more than baseless optimism.

“My name is—” Even though the orc’s mouth was moving, it was hard for her
to believe it was his voice. Of course it was. He was speaking human words, and
was entirely too fluent at the language. Besides, it was a low and smooth, if
somewhat throaty, voice and very pleasant to listen to. “—Jumbo. First, let me
ask you, what are your names?”

“Huh...?” Ranta looked to Merry, then back to Jumbo, twisted his head to the
side in confusion, and then looked to the middle-aged man. When the middle-
aged man shrugged, Ranta finally accepted reality. “...R-R-Ranta. No, I mean, my
name is Ranta. No, th-the name’s... Ranta... you got that?”

“And you?” Jumbo asked, looking to Merry.

Merry took a single breath. Her entire body was numb. She needed to pull
herself together.

“I’m Merry.”

“Ranta. Merry. It would seem that you two are not of the village.”

“...What is the village, anyway?” Merry asked.

“Heyyyyyy, Merry, don’t say more than you have to...” Ranta shook his head,
cursing. “Yeah, that’s right! We don’t know what village you’re talking about.
We have no clue what it is, so you can be damn sure we’re not from it! So
what?!”

“Arabakian volunteer soldiers, then?” Jumbo asked. “Or citizens of Vele?”

Vele was most likely the free city of Vele. There was trade between Alterna
and Vele. However, though Vele was a human city state, they also engaged in
trade with orcs and the undead. They were neutral, you could say.

If they claimed to be citizens of Vele, Jumbo might release Merry and Ranta. If
he believed them, that was. If he didn’t see through the lie.

“We’re volunteer soldiers.” Merry glared at Jumbo. “What of it?”

Ranta had already told the middle-aged man that they were volunteer
soldiers. It was hard to imagine that detail hadn’t been passed on to Jumbo.
Jumbo must have known. If he was asking a question he knew the answer to, it
was like a trap. If he used such boring tricks, he might be more shallow than
she’d thought.

Or maybe not.

“Takasagi.” Jumbo looked at Merry again as he asked. “Is this true?”

“Yeah,” the middle-aged man whose name was Takasagi replied. “Onsa found
their Volunteer Soldier Corps badges. I can’t see why they’d be carrying around
fake ones. There’s no doubt about it. No telling what ties they have to the
village, though. The guys attacking us are volunteer soldiers, too, so they’re still
suspicious.”

“...Suspicious, huh? You wound me.” Ranta snorted derisively. If his hands
hadn’t been bound behind his back, he’d probably have crossed his arms
haughtily. “Whaaaat? You’re thinking we’re spies, or something? Let me tell
you, I wouldn’t do anything that lame. If I wanted to take you down, I’d do it in
a straight-up fight!”

“A straight-up fight, huh...” Takasagi grinned as the pipe he held between his

lips shook. “You’re not good enough. Not only would you not be able to take
out our boss, I doubt you could even beat me.”

“Hey, don’t underestimate me, old man!” Ranta’s veins were pulsing, his
eyebrows raised, and his entire face distorted. Did he think he was being
intimidating? Was he stupid?

He was breathing way too heavily from his nose. What was this idiot thinking,
getting so worked up? Was he not thinking at all? Normally, that would be
impossible, but with this guy, maybe it was. He was just that stupid.

“I’m a volunteer soldier superstar!” Ranta hollered. “I’m the supernova of
talent they call the Ultra Idaten! Idaten...?! Well, whatever. Anyway, when they
talk about the special swordsman known as the Otherdimensional God of
Destruction, they’re talking about me, Ranta-sama! Like I’d lose to some old
man! Try gauging your opponents a little better before you talk, pal!”

“Cut it out,” Merry said urgently. “You’re—”

“Shut up! You don’t talk now!” Ranta shouted at Merry, raising his voice even
louder. “You think you’re so hot because you managed to capture us with a big
gang! You cowards couldn’t handle a fight one-on-one! Who do you think
you’re fooling with your, ‘I doubt you could even beat me’! Say that once we’ve
actually fought! If you’re just running your mouth when we haven’t even
fought, anyone can do that! If you’re that confident, then face me!”

“He has a point.” Jumbo nodded without changing his expression. “Takasagi.
You were the one who said you could win. Face him.”

“Good grief, that’ll teach me to open my big mouth, huh...” Takasagi turned
back and looked towards the cave. “Onsa, could you have the nyaas undo his
ropes?”

When Onsa the goblin pursed his lips and whistled, the cat-like creatures
swarmed over Ranta and undid his ropes in short order.

Those creatures, they were called nyaas? It wasn’t a very inventive name, but
it was cute. They looked like they were trying so hard when they moved their
little hands, and that—No, no. This was no time to be admiring the adorable
nyaas.

“All right!” Ranta jumped up, twisted his head from side to side, and
stretched his arms and legs. “Don’t let my hyper-awesome skills blow you away.
By the way, you wouldn’t fight with weapons while I’m unarmed, right? If you
want to settle this with our fists, I don’t mind, though. I’d be down for that, too.
I’m a master of everything, after all.”

A short time later, three nyaas brought Ranta’s RIPer from the cave. The
nyaas straining themselves as they rushed over carrying the sword were
adorable, of course, but it went without saying that Merry didn’t have the
presence of mind to properly savor their cuteness. In fact, her jaw had dropped.

Rather than choosing to watch things play out, the flow of events had left
Merry behind. She blamed Ranta. Ranta was an idiot. Everything was stupid
Ranta’s fault.

The black wolves and nyaas, the orcs, the undead, and Jumbo and the big orc
all moved, making space for the duel. Merry could only sit there in silence.

Perhaps this was Ranta’s plan. Whatever the case, Ranta was free now. He’d
even gotten his weapon back. Which meant maybe it wasn’t impossible to
escape...?

When Ranta glanced over in Merry’s direction, it made her want to think, I
knew it—but it was just that, a single glance, and then Ranta turned to face
Takasagi, drawing RIPer from its sheathe. He dropped the sheathe right there.
She was embarrassed that, even for that one moment, she had started to think,
I knew it.

“Okay!” Ranta slapped his own face with his left hand. “I’m good to go! Come
at me any way you like, old man Takasagi!”

“I can’t tell if you’re serious, or just desperate.” Takasagi chewed on his pipe,
slowly drawing the katana on his back with his right hand. “If you like, I’ll let you
move first.”

“You sure?” Ranta asked. “I don’t want you regretting it later.”

“Don’t hesitate to take me up on it. I’ve probably lived twice as long as you. If
you want, I’ll give you an even bigger handicap.”

“The wisdom of age, is that it?” Ranta lowered his hips a little, readying his

sword. “Well, I’ll gladly take the right to strike first. Don’t go down on the first
blow. I don’t get to do this often, so make it fun for me.”

“You talk a good game.”

“I’ll show you I’m more than just talk soon enough.”

Could it be...? This seemed like the only possibility, but could it be that Ranta
thought he could beat Takasagi? That he could win the duel, and, in winning it,
drag some sort of compromise out of them?

Takasagi had taken a wound to his left eye, or had something else wrong with
it, and was seemingly blind on that side. On top of that, he probably wasn’t
hiding his right arm. He had one eye, and one arm. He was middle-aged, too, so
Ranta could probably handle him. If Ranta was thinking that—and knowing
Ranta, he probably was, which worried her—it was frivolous of him.

Takasagi slowly raised his katana, pointing the tip towards Ranta. The
moment he did, Ranta stopped moving entirely. He probably couldn’t move.
The damp air suddenly began to feel chilly.

Merry’s eyes were drawn to Takasagi’s sword, unable to focus on anything
else. If Ranta were in the same state as Merry was, it was over. The battle was
decided. He couldn’t possibly win.

“I won’t be hypnotized,” Ranta muttered to himself.

In the next moment, he burst forward with Leap Out. With the force of an
eruption, he shot to the left of Takasagi. From there, he used Hatred. Takasagi
swayed to avoid it.

Ranta used Leap Out again to go to Takasagi’s right side, and swinging his
sword in a figure-eight motion, he used Slice. Takasagi easily dodged this one,
too.

Ranta fought in a very un-Ranta-like manner, barely using his voice as he
pressed the attack. His feet never stopped, and he kept on moving and
attacking.

Merry didn’t want to praise Ranta, but the way he moved around with such
bewildering speed as he fought had to be rather troublesome for his opponent.

When fighting that way, Ranta seemed to gain an abnormal strength. On top of
that, he wasn’t just moving around randomly; he was always trying to attack
from an angle that would make it hard to block. It was like he was an entirely
different person from the one who had been in the party when Merry first
joined. Ranta had gotten so much stronger now that he was almost
unrecognizable. However, there was always someone better.

Even for Merry, a priest, it was clear to see. For now, at least, no matter how
earnestly Ranta stretched out his hand, he could never reach Takasagi.

Ranta could jump to the right and swing, or spring to the left and thrust, and
Takasagi would always be facing him, ready to evade it with one or two steps.
Takasagi could see it. He had completely seen through Ranta’s unorthodox
fighting style.

It was no exaggeration to say that Ranta was no match for him. Ranta, more
than anyone, must have been aware of the gap in their power. Despite that,
Ranta kept attacking. Incorrigibly, he repeated his meaningless attacks.

Just stop it, Merry wanted to say. But what would happen if he did?

Don’t give up, Ranta had said to Merry. Because I won’t give up, he’d said.

This was very much a battle where, if he gave up, it was all over. Though he
definitely couldn’t win, he had to keep fighting so that it didn’t end. That was
why Ranta was fighting so desperately. Until his last bit of energy was spent, or
until Takasagi cut him down, Ranta wouldn’t give up.

“...Go for it.” Merry forced the words out. “Go Ranta! Go!”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Ranta yelled.

Ranta wasn’t responding to Merry. He was focused on the battle, and
probably couldn’t hear her voice. But the sharpness of Ranta’s moves, along
with his speed, went up a notch. It might have been an illusion, but that was
how it looked to Merry.

If he stepped into his strikes by a few more centimeters, his sword reached
that much farther. Takasagi’s evasive maneuvers were getting larger, too. Up
until a moment ago, he had been lazily evading, but now it was a little different.
Occasionally his feet moved a little faster, becoming hurried. He had less room

for error than before.

“That’s not the best you’ve got, is it?!” Merry called. “You can give it more!
There’s no way you can’t!”

This wasn’t true at all. Ranta was giving it all, going past his limits. Even
though she knew that, all she could do was cheer him on like this. It made her
hate how nasty she was. Her comrade was burning out the very fire of his life,
so why couldn’t she offer him some kinder words?

“This time...!” Suddenly, as if he’d been blown away, Ranta moved back
several meters. It was Exhaust. He’d put distance between them, but what was
he planning to do with it?

Takasagi stayed put, as if waiting to see what he could do.

“Secret technique...” Ranta held RIPer in both hands, his entire body swaying.
“Hachioji Beta Cleansing... No, forget that, it needs a cooler name... Thousand
Arms Kannon Boddhisatva... No, wait, that’s no good either... Fragrance Bitter...
Huh? That’s off, too. It’s not special attack-y, uhh... Ultimate Skyboy...?”

Merry was appalled. What did the name matter? It didn’t even need one. In
the end, Ranta was Ranta. An idiot. No matter where he went, a true idiot was
always an idiot.

Takasagi was gaping, too.

Wait, was that what Ranta had been aiming for...?

“Gotcha!” Ranta used Leap Out to charge at Takasagi. He leapt in from
outside his swinging range, thrusting with all his might. Anger. “Take that!”

Takasagi’s legs were frozen stiff. He couldn’t dodge.

This might be it.

For the first time, Takasagi used his katana, and—

“Ungh!” He simply swept Ranta’s sword aside.

“Gwuh?!” Just from having his sword deflected, Ranta lost his balance.

Takasagi finally went on the attack. Or rather, he settled it with one swing. If it
could even be called that.

Takasagi used his katana like it was his own arm, wrapping it around Ranta’s
sword. RIPer spun around as it flew around five meters before falling to the
ground.

“You’ve got spunk.” Takasagi pressed the tip of his sword against Ranta’s
forehead. “But that’s all you’ve got. Well, ten years from now, I’ll have
weakened with age, so maybe you would’ve won then. Right now, it’s just not
gonna happen.”

It was over.

It was all over.

So easily.

Merry smiled wryly, all her strength having left her. How very like Ranta. But,
well, for Ranta, he’d done the best he probably could.

That was right. He’d done well. Merry hadn’t done anything; she hadn’t been
able to; so she was in no position to gripe.

“You think this is over?” Ranta said in his trembling voice, and she was moved
a little.

Not yet. Even now, Ranta hadn’t given up. He was an idiot.

An idiot, but incredible. He was great. As his comrade, she felt proud, though
only a little. The corners of her eyes started to get hot.

If Ranta hadn’t kowtowed at light speed, she might have teared up.

Merry thought her eyes were going to fall out of her skull. She’d never felt
such a nonsensical shock before.

“...Huh...?” Takasagi asked.

“You got me! Please, make me your disciple! I’ll carry your sandals, wash your
sandals, polish your sandals, whatever you want, so please! Do you like strong
men?! I loooove them! Me, I wanna be strong! Seriously, seriously, I do! I’ve
been looking for a way to, you could say, always searching, and, at last, I’ve
finally what I need! You, Takasagi-sensei! I’ve found you! I mean, you’re way
too strong, and I was so much more powerless before you than I thought I
would be, I fell in love! Please, please, take me on as your disciple! I’ll start out

as your gofer if I have to! I’m begging you! Pleeeeaaaase!”

“Listen, I’m not taking disciples...” Takasagi frowned, resting the flat side of
his katana on his left shoulder with a sigh. “Besides, don’t you get it? We don’t
serve any king. But, nonetheless, people from Arabakia are still our enemy.
There’s no way we can get along. Don’t you know what that means? Let’s
assume for a moment that I do make you my disciple. It’ll never happen, but if I
did, you’d be betraying Arabakia.”

“That’s A-OK!”

“...Huh?”

“Nah, Sensei, Master, I think you may be misunderstanding here, so I’ll tell
you, okay? I just became a volunteer soldier because things turned out that
way. It’s not like I’ve sworn my body and soul to the Kingdom of Arabakia. I’ve
never once felt like doing so. I just happened to find myself here in Grimgar, flat
broke, and they said they’d cover my personal expenses for the time being if I
became a volunteer soldier trainee, and I didn’t seem to have any other options
at the time, so I did. Well, in a way, you could say they tricked me into it, yeah?
That’s how I got made into a volunteer soldier!”

“I was a volunteer soldier myself, so I can see where you’re coming from,”
said Takasagi.

“Wow! You’re a former volunteer soldier, Sensei? Master?”

“I’m not your sensei or master, though...”

“How’d you end up working for Commander Jumbo, then?” Ranta asked
eagerly. “I’d love to hear about that, too.”

“It’s a long story...” Takasagi clicked his tongue lightly. “You’re a smooth
operator, you know that? I almost went along with you there, just now.”

“Darn straight! Me, I’ve got a silver tongue! I’ve got the gift of the gab! I talk
all the time, so people always say I’m annoying! But, you know what?! My heart
is hot! My soul is full! I wanna be your disciple to the max, Takasagi-sensei! I
seriously wanna get stronger, for real! The way I am now—a volunteer soldier,
doing the same things as anyone else—I can’t expect to grow! It just hit me!”

“...What just hit you?”

“That, there, that’s the point! Or rather, this place is!” Ranta spun around,
looking to Jumbo, the big orc, the goblins, the black wolves, and more. “You, a
human, are working under Commander Jumbo! You’ve gotta have a damn good
reason! But, more than that, I feel something here! To be frank, that’s what
attracts me! If I become one of you, maybe I can find something?! Maybe the
path that I, in my quest to become the greatest and most invincible fighter to
ever live, need to follow has been here all along?!”

“Okay, tell me if I’ve got this right,” Takasagi said. “Setting the bit about
becoming my disciple aside, you want to quit being a volunteer soldier, and join
Forgan, even if it’s as a petty underling.”

“Uhh, Forgan...?”

“Forgo,” Jumbo said, looking at the giant black eagle on his shoulder. “That’s
the name of my respected friend. In human language, it means ‘black eagle.’ I
suppose that would make Forgan the Black Eagle Band.”

“There!” Ranta nodded, as if Jumbo had said exactly the right thing. “That’s it!
Please, let me into Forgan, I’m begging you! I’ll do the cleaning, the laundry, the
cooking, the chores, the anything...! Pile all the work you want on me, because
I’ll still keep pushing upwards! I’m confident I’ve got the talent, the potential,
the guts, the nerve, the cajones, the Jones! Makes you wonder who this Jones
guy is, but, seriously, I’m seriously super serious about all this!”

As Ranta rubbed his head against the ground repeatedly and begged, Merry
couldn’t decide if he really was seriously super serious about this, or if this was
a way of begging for his life, or if he was just spouting nonsense. Any of them
seemed possible, and she didn’t think any of them was okay.

Maybe Merry had misjudged him. Ranta might have been a bigger piece of
trash than she had ever thought.

She wanted to cry now, but for a different reason than before.

As his comrade, she felt ashamed of Ranta. She was hopelessly ashamed that
anything he’d done had moved her heart even the slightest.

“Well, regardless, if that’s the case...” Takasagi returned his katana to its

sheathe. “I’m not the one who makes that decision. It’s Jumbo. Jumbo makes
the decisions. The rest of us follow them. That’s the rule in Forgan, after all.”

Forgo the great black eagle let out a shrill cry, then took off from Jumbo’s
shoulder.

Jumbo walked over. It was like there was a light breeze around him. He was
quiet, coolly approaching, then stopping in front of Ranta, then of all things,
crouching down.

“Ranta,” said Jumbo.

“Ye—” Ranta straightened his back, kneeling formally. “Yes, sir!”

“I am not fond of needless killing.”

“Yes, sir! Huh? Sir?!”

“Of course, we sometimes kill those who oppose us,” said Jumbo. “We steal
sometimes, too. We hurt people. Because some among our companions are of
a special nature, you see. There are also those who will slander Forgan, claiming
we are cruel and merciless. I won’t deny it. However, I, personally, do not take
lives needlessly.”

“...Y-Yes, sir.”

“If you wish to become my companion, I will welcome you.”

“Yes, sir. ...Huh?! Welcome me?! You mean... you’ll make me your
comrade?!”

“If that is what you wish,” said Jumbo. “At present, Takasagi is the only
human among my companions, but it will only mean taking on a second. That,
too, could prove entertaining.”

“I... I did it?!”

“However,” Jumbo added.

“H-Howev...?!”

“What will that woman do?” Jumbo gestured to Merry—or rather, he turned
his orange eyes towards her. “Will that woman become my companion along
with you? Is that what she wishes?”

8. Pride

In the village, there were four samurai houses. The foremost was the House
of Nigi, followed by the House of Shigano, House of Ganata, and House of
Mishio in that order. These, with the addition of the House of Katsurai, who
managed the onmitsu spies, and the House of Shuro, who carried on the
tradition of necromancy, made up the Six Houses.

There was a young man. He was of the House of Mishio, but in the village,
women were the ones to inherit the house, and it was the matrilineal line which
most mattered. Boys, no matter who they were born to, did not carry on a
family name. Only by marrying a girl with a family name could a boy finally be
recognized as a man, and he would take the name of his wife.

This young man was unmarried. Furthermore, his mother was not the head of
the Mishio, and he was not seen to have an aptitude for the sword, something
which decided the value of those born to a samurai family. He was an attractive
man, but his beautiful countenance actually made him an object of scorn. His
inborn kindness, which he showed to all equally, only encouraged further
mockery, and it showed no signs of letting up.

His name was Tatsuru.

Nigi Arara, born as the eldest daughter of the head of the House of Nigi, had,
for as far back as she could remember, always watched Tatsuru, who was a year
older than her, with a sense of irritation.

Those of the four samurai houses were, from a young age, put through
training that, even by the standards of samurai houses, was especially strict.
Being roughly the same age, it was normal for them to shed sweat, and
sometimes blood, together, but Tatsuru was, to put it kindly, seen as unfit, and,
to be more blunt about the situation, the subject of bullying.

The treatment he received would have made anyone gloomy. It wouldn’t
have been surprising if he turned cynical. However, Tatsuru wasn’t like that.
Even when they jeered at him, insulted him to his face, and left him out of
things, it never warped him. He would work even harder at his training, trying,
somehow, to make them acknowledge him. He was ever polite, bowing his
head to ask for guidance even at a young age, and he never complained that he
was dissatisfied or that things were unfair.

It is of special note that, when he spoke to others, he always looked the other
person straight in the eye. Though humble, he was not servile. His face was also
not all that beautiful. But he was a youth whose actions, and whose very heart,
were beautiful.

That made it all the more irritating for Arara. Tatsuru was of mediocre skill, to
be sure, but by training more than others, he was well on his way to becoming a
viable samurai. To Arara’s eyes, the contempt she saw directed at Tatsuru was
clearly unfair. And Tatsuru accepted it gracefully.

Arara had her position as the heir to the House of Nigi to consider, so she was
hesitant to criticize everyone loudly for what she saw. However, when she was
fourteen, she could bear it no longer, and consulted her uncle about it.

“Uncle, you know of Tatsuru of the House of Mishio,” said Arara. “He is one
year older than me. Why is he the way he is? It frustrates me to no end.”

“It frustrates you, does it?” her uncle asked. “Even so, he is not one so
significant that you, who will one day be head of the House of Nigi, need
concern yourself with him.”

“I am not concerned for him. It simply angers me.”

“Why would the treatment of one such as he anger you? Ah—”

Arara’s father was of the House of Ganata, and her uncle, who was eight
years younger than him, was an eccentric who had stayed single even past the
age of thirty. He had wandered freely since he was young, did not have
properly, and wore a strange pair of glasses that he had obtained from
somewhere.

Arara had a great fondness for this vagrant uncle who was a man of meager

talent—unlike his brother, who, despite being a man, had come to be called a
war god, and who had been able to marry the head of the House of Nigi.
Honestly, if she were asked to think of a relative, this uncle’s face would come
to mind before her own parents. Her uncle, in turn, adored Arara.

“I see, I see,” her uncle said. “Arara, you find this young boy not entirely
disagreeable, do you?”

“What are you saying, Uncle?! I am merely saying that I find it unbearable to
watch that man act so weak, not objecting in the face of everyone’s unfair
treatment of him!”

“We could say that you are righteously indignant, then. In that case, could you
not simply speak to everyone about it, and admonish that boy?”

“As daughter of the family head, I can do no such thing.”

“Hmm. I suppose, as daughter of the family head, you cannot always say what
you wish to say. What an uncomfortable position to be in. You have it hard, too,
having had to be born into the House of Nigi.”

“I take pride in being my mother and father’s child!” she retorted.

“I see, I see. Good girl.”

“How dare you pat a girl’s head!”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll not do it again, so please forgive your inconsiderate uncle. If
you came to hate me, I couldn’t go on living.”

“I could never hate you, Uncle!” Arara said. “Besides, I never said to stop.
No...”

Before being Arara’s parents, her mother and father were the heads of the
foremost of the four samurai houses. Their relationship was not that of parent
and child, it was that of master and disciple. Furthermore, the heads of the
House of Nigi were the strictest of masters, and Arara needed to be a loyal and
earnest disciple.

Her uncle could be irresponsible, but he was a warm person. He had hugged
her often when she was young, and even now would pat her on the back and
head. It embarrassed her when he did it, but she felt a kinship with him, and it

made her happy.

Her uncle was the one person Arara could tell anything. There were many
subjects upon which she could only share her true feelings with him.

That was why, at seventeen, while walking with her uncle who had returned
once more from his travels, Arara secretly confessed to him.

“Uncle, it seems... I’m in love with Tatsuru.”

“I see.” Her uncle smiled. “That’s splendid. My niece has finally discovered
love. Yes, splendid indeed.”

“Do you think that we can be wed?” Arara asked.

“That was sudden!”

Arara was aware that it would be difficult.

First of all, she had to consider Tatsuru’s feelings. Though they had trained
together as fellow children of the four samurai houses, Arara had never spoken
to Tatsuru on a personal level. Marriages were not always the idea of those
who were to be wed, so that, in and of itself, might not be an obstacle, but if
Tatsuru refused, that would be the end of it. Even if Arara proposed a marriage,
and Tatsuru accepted, there was still the issue of whether the heads of the
House of Nigi would allow it. In fact, that was perhaps the biggest problem.

It was a harsh way to put it, but Tatsuru was a hanger-on of the House of
Mishio. Being the eldest daughter of the House of Nigi, Arara had considerable
influence. It would be a simple matter to force Tatsuru to her will, but if the
heads of the house, her parents, were not in favor, she couldn’t move ahead
with it.

There had been offers of marriage for her going back years. If the heads of the
house agreed to one, no matter how Arara might feel, or what she might say,
she would be wedded off on the spot.

The current candidates were the second and third sons of the House of
Shigano, the eldest son of the House of Ganata, and the eldest son of the House
of Mishio. Rather than it being hard to decide which of these four was the best
prospect, in Arara’s eyes they were all more or less the same. Their ages and

physique varied a little, but in a fight with Arara, they might or might not win.
None of them were extraordinarily talented.

The heads of the house had pondered the matter, but they’d been having
trouble deciding on a marriage partner for their daughter.

Until she’d realized her yearning for Tatsuru, Arara had had no interest in
marriage. She would have been fine with any of them. She’d figured she would
marry who she was told, bear children, then raise and train them. That was fine.
She would merely do her duty. That was a given to her.

If she had not fallen in love, she would never have agonized over it. Once she
began to, though, she couldn’t stay put.

Not long after telling her uncle about her love, Arara dragged Tatsuru into a
secluded place where no one could see them, and revealed her emotions to
him like she might deliver a letter of challenge.

“Tatsuru-sama, I am in love with you. Please, marry me!”

“Whuh...?” Tatsuru stared at her vacantly, his mouth agape for some time,
but then responded he wanted to think over the matter properly, and politely
asked her to wait seven days for his reply.

Arara waited.

She slept well at night, but it occupied her mind and kept her from focusing
on her training during the days, so she was scolded by the heads of the house.
Even when she tried to pull herself back together, thoughts about what she
would do if he gave her a less-than-favorable response, or what to do if he
didn’t respond after seven days kept filling her mind, and there was nothing she
could do about it.

After precisely seven days had passed, Tatsuru came to the House of Nigi.
Arara thought he was there to see her, but that wasn’t the case. It turned out
that Tatsuru had requested a meeting with her parents, the heads of the house.
Her parents, unaware of the situation, had happened to be free at the time, and
so agreed to meet with him.

When Tatsuru had walked up in front of the heads, he suddenly prostrated
himself before them. “I humbly, humbly beseech you to allow me to marry

Arara-sama.”

In an instant, not just the House of Nigi, but the entire village became as noisy
as a nest of wasps that had just been poked. At first, they thought Tatsuru had
fallen for Arara, and was getting ahead of himself, but that wasn’t the truth of
the matter.

If she left things to run their course, Tatsuru might find his head on the end of
a spear, so Arara hurriedly explained to the heads of the house. That it was her
who had fallen for Tatsuru, and her who had proposed they marry. Tatsuru had,
after seven days of deep thought, consented to this, and had felt it was only
polite he go to request it himself.

After all, marriages were an important issue between families. Arara was the
eldest daughter of the House of Nigi, foremost among the four samurai houses,
so it was only appropriate he address the matter with the heads first. This was
all so very like Tatsuru. He’d followed the proper protocol. He was right in what
he was doing, but he could have said a word to Arara about doing it first.

But that was good. This part of him was one of the things that Arara found so
agreeable about Tatsuru. At this point, she could think of marrying no one else.
She would have no other man. To begin with, she had never, not even once,
thought of anyone but Tatsuru as a man. Tatsuru was the only one. Tatsuru was
her one and only.

The heads seemed unwilling to even consider it, but Arara went on bended
knee and tried to persuade them. She bowed her head, too. She pleaded with
them to let her marry Tatsuru.

Naturally, part of it was that she wanted to save Tatsuru, who was not only
harshly criticized by the people of the village, having stones thrown at him
openly rather than just being spoken ill of behind his back, but who was also
reprimanded by his parents and siblings. Tatsuru wasn’t just isolated; he was
persecuted. Many samurai were bloodthirsty. If she left him be, there could
well be an incident of bloodshed.

“My lady! No, Mother! I beg of you! I beg of you, let this happen! I, Arara, ask
you this one selfish favor, hoping you will allow me to be wed to Tatsuru-
sama!”

“It cannot be,” her mother said.

“That is why I am here, asking you to bend on that!”

“I will not bend.”

“You’re so hardheaded!”

“How dare you call the head of this house hardheaded!”

“What’s wrong with calling a hardheaded person hardheaded?!” she shouted.

“If you cannot understand what I am saying, then you are the one who is
being hardheaded! You will stay in a cave until you’ve cooled your head!”

It was the first time in all her life that Arara had argued with the head of the
house. She was sealed in a cave and expected to repent. She spent five days in
the lightless cave, without eating or drinking, and was finally released. Arara
was completely exhausted, so she hoped that maybe the head of the house
would relent and indulge her daughter’s wishes.

Arara’s hope of that was shattered to pieces.

“...Mother, please... I beg you, let me marry Tatsuru-sama...”

“It is not possible,” her mother said. “It seems you’ve not reflected on your
actions enough. Back to the cave with you.”

She must be joking, thought Arara. If she were returned to the cave like this,
she’d die.

But it was no joke. By the orders of the head of the house, Arara was thrown
into the cave once more.

The second time she was released after three days, she had only survived
because of the training her body and spirit had been put through, and because
she had swallowed her pride to lap up what little moisture there was on the
cave walls.

She had to consider that the head of the house might be serious. If she
wouldn’t do as she was told, whether she was her daughter or not, the head
might not mind seeing her die. Or perhaps she was confident that, if she was
ready to kill her, she could make her daughter obey her.

Arara had no intention of doing as she was told. She couldn’t let the head of
the house kill her, though. She couldn’t be with Tatsuru-sama if she was dead,
after all.

If Arara stayed stubborn and lost her life for it, Tatsuru would grieve. He
might take his own life. That wasn’t what Arara wanted.

So Arara gave up on appealing directly to the heads of the house. On the
surface, she returned to training in the sword as before, but she and Tatsuru
had many secret trysts. Trysts though they might have been, neither of the two
was particularly skilled with words. They would just talk just a little, and then
exchange letters.

On the orders of the head of the house, the onmitsu’s nyaas were monitoring
them, so even managing that much took a great deal of effort. They had to
dispose of the letters immediately after reading them. If they kept them hidden
somewhere, and the skillful and clever nyaas went looking, they might find
them.

The head of the house would eventually move forward with another marriage
for her. What would she do then? If push came to shove, the head of the house
would do what it took to make her comply. Even if she refused, would she be
able to reject it? Wouldn’t the head of the house get her way in the end?

Even as Tatsuru was isolated and without support, suffering incredible
harassment, unending slander, and straight-up abuse, nothing ever clouded his
eyes. What was more, he saw it as inevitable, and so he didn’t resent anyone
for it, and repeatedly told Arara she mustn’t resent anyone, either.

It seemed to Arara that he spoke from the heart when he said these things.
Her respect for him deepened, as did her love. When it got to be too much for
her, she let slip to her uncle that she wanted to just elope with him.

“If that is what you want to do, I won’t stop you, but I would feel a wee bit
uneasy, sending you two out into the unfamiliar outside world alone,” he said.
“Let me guide you wherever you would like to go.”

“Uncle, I am serious about this.”

“As am I. Well, if the truth came to light, I am sure your parents would kill me,

but if it were for your sake, I would gladly give my life.”

“I’ll believe you.”

“Sure, go ahead, go ahead.”

Half because her uncle had instigated her to do so, Arara brought up the idea
of eloping during one of her secret meetings with Tatsuru. Surely, Tatsuru
wouldn’t refuse her.

Arara was wrong.

“We mustn’t, Arara-sama,” he said. “Eloping is out of the question. I can’t
abide it. Even if we escaped successfully, it would bring ill fortune to all
involved.”

“...But, Tatsuru-sama. Is there any way but eloping that we can be together in
this life? The head of the house will find a man for me soon. Even if I fight
against it, I’ll have no say in the matter...”

“The truth is, I do have a plan.”

As she listened to him, she learned that Tatsuru had been formulating a plan,
and training day and night so that he might execute it. In fact, compared to the
time when Arara was sealed in the cave, Tatsuru’s body had grown much larger,
and more manly.

According to Tatsuru, this was all a result of his lack of skill, and if he had
attained a level of prowess that even the heads of her house were forced to
recognize, they wouldn’t have opposed their marriage.

Indeed, a samurai had to be strong. Strength was not a thing to be flaunted,
but if it was never demonstrated, others wouldn’t know about it. Tatsuru
explained that he had taken the wrong path, and gotten the order of things
incorrect. To gain the head of the house’s approval, he first needed to become
a samurai worthy of her. It had been a mistake to ask for her hand before that.

“But how will you make everyone acknowledge you?” Arara asked.

“By striking down a powerful foe, of course.”

“You don’t mean...”

“Indeed I do, Arara-sama. Recently, there is only one foe who has made the
people of the village tremble in fear.”

“You would slay Arnold the ‘Bloody Whirlwind’?”

The village didn’t stay in one location. Ever since they’d lost their homeland, it
had been their custom to perform an augury, and to move the village on the
day it was determined it would be auspicious to do so. In addition, everyone
was accomplished at using the labyrinthine terrain of Thousand Valley to their
advantage, so it was not often that the village was threatened by external
enemies.

Neither the undead who had infested the domain of the former Kingdom of
Ishmar, nor the orcs who had built their Kingdom of Vangish in the domain of
the former Kingdom of Nananka, went out of their way to strike the village. Of
course, that was because the villagers were always on alert, and they spent
their days tirelessly working to improve themselves. It was better to be
prepared than to regret it later.

The village was always prepared, and the undead and orcs who had destroyed
their homeland knew this, too, so they didn’t attack.

It wasn’t that the village had let their guards down. Around half a year earlier,
in the dead of night, that double-armed undead, Arnold, had broken though the
defenses with brute force and entered the village.

There had been seven dead, twenty-three injured.

The undead who had swung his four katanas around, cutting down the
samurai one after another, and chopping the flesh golems that served the
necromancers to ribbons, had clearly been enjoying the slaughter from the
center of the bloody whirlwind he formed around himself. Shockingly, that
undead had come alone. Just one person had entered the village, taken many
lives, and injured so many more, then shook off the samurai of the four houses
and the onmitsu that pursued him.

It went without saying that this had been a painful incident for the village. It
had been an incredible tragedy, and a great humiliation.

They had soon identified the undead responsible. He was a member of the

Black Eagle Band, Forgan, led by Jumbo the Orc, and his name was Arnold. It
was said he was among the strongest members of Forgan.

Forgan operated across a fairly wide area, including the former domains of
the kingdoms of Ishmar, Nananka, and Arabakia. Their true nature remained
unknown, but they were seen as a drifting group of refugees that came into
conflict with factions everywhere.

That said, they were no mere refugees. They had been involved in a large
number of bloody incidents, and that included some battles that were on a
large enough scale that it would be fair to call them wars.

They had taken their fair share of casualties, too, but their renown had only
grown with time. It was said that the king of the new Kingdom of Vangish had
once asked Jumbo to serve under him, but he’d been summarily rejected. It had
been a harsh blow to his prestige. Out of resentment, the king sent his army in
an attempt to subdue them. However, though the force from Vangish had put
up a valiant fight, and outnumbered Forgan many times over, they’d been
wiped out. Instead of restoring his authority, the king had fallen from power.

The strange thing was that Arnold had come into the village alone. The
onmitsu had been able to determine that Forgan had made camp at a location
only around ten kilometers from the village. However, Arnold hadn’t continued
to attack the village. In fact, he didn’t seem interested in the village at all.

Would they take revenge, or watch and wait?

The heads of the six houses held a joint council, and came to an answer.

They would strengthen their security, then take revenge with ambushes and
surprise attacks, and see what Forgan did.

They immediately formed and dispatched a retribution force of samurai,
onmitsu, and necromancers, but Forgan split up as if they had anticipated this,
making them hard to capture.

If the enemy was aware they had set out to attack them, the village might be
attacked instead. Though they had beefed up the defenses, with the retribution
force outside the village’s combat potential was reduced by that much. The
retribution force had to consider the possibility of being caught in an ambush,

too.

The path that the village had walked was by no means flat, and they had
faced a number of crises in the past. It wasn’t as if the current heads of the six
houses had never faced an emergency that had threatened their survival
before. However, the people of the village, including the heads of the six
houses, had never known war.

Long ago, their homelands had struggled against the great army of the No-Life
King, fought valiantly, been struck down, and miserably destroyed. That was
why they now so thoroughly avoided war. Because of that, they had set
themselves up in a way that no one would attack them. That was the major
policy of the village.

The heads of the six houses made the decision to call back the retribution
force, thicken their patrols, and remain in a state of readiness for battle. There
were those who criticized this as weakness, but everyone obeyed.

Forgan didn’t seem to do anything particularly special. They were definitely in
Thousand Valley, but they were quiet, as if they were avoiding contact with the
people of the village.

A month passed like that, then two, then three...

Soon, it had been half a year.

It had gotten to the point that the majority view was that maybe Forgan had
no intention of fighting. Still, they couldn’t let their guards down. Arnold’s
rampage through the village had taken place shortly after the second time
Arara had been sealed in the cave. The whole village was on edge, so perhaps
Tatsuru was serving as an outlet for some of that.

If Tatsuru could slay Arnold, no one could ignore that accomplishment.
However, it might also be the trigger that started a war.

Even if she didn’t always want to be, Arara was the eldest daughter of the
House of Nigi. That concern immediately crossed her mind, but she was
hesitant to use it as a reason to persuade Tatsuru to stop. It was hard to tell him
the enemy was too great for him, too. She didn’t want to wound Tatsuru’s
pride.

“I think we should elope after all, Tatsuru,” Arara said. “If you are with me, I
have no need of anything else. Even if it means throwing everything else away, I
would have no regrets.”

“I don’t want to throw anything away, Arara-sama,” said Tatsuru. “The heads
of your house are especially concerned for your well-being. If we tread on the
hearts of your parents by eloping, we will surely come to regret it later.”

“Those two only care about the house and the village!”

“No. You’re wrong, Arara-sama. The heads of your house are people, too.
However, as the ones charged with leading the greatest of the four samurai
houses, they must bite back their tears and kill their own selfish desires. Do you
not understand that?!”

When he scolded her, she was overcome. Tatsuru’s consideration and brave
resolve touched her heart.

Even so, she shouldn’t let him go. No matter how he trained, Tatsuru couldn’t
become a master swordsman. He might make for an experienced instructor
someday, but he could aspire to no more. Having been born with potential
befitting the eldest child of the House of Nigi, Arara had an almost perfect grasp
of Tatsuru’s talent, and his limits. Short of being blessed with incredibly good
fortune, Tatsuru couldn’t defeat Arnold the Bloody Whirlwind.

Though she knew this, Arara didn’t stop him. No, she couldn’t stop him. He
was a samurai warrior, risking his life to accomplish something. Even if it was
rash, or reckless, she could not ask a samurai to bend his will.

Because she loved him, that was the one thing she could not do.

Because that was the way of the samurai warrior, there were times when the
heads of the house would issue high-handed orders for them to stop. But as
long as those above them didn’t hold them back, allowing no room for
disagreement, a samurai never stopped.

The following day, Tatsuru left the village, never to return...

9. Lighting a Fire in Someone’s Heart

“So, yeah, that’s Arara’s grudge against Arnold,” Rock said.
As he spoke, Rock would stand up, sit down, walk around, and generally act
restless. Also, his hair was standing up. How was he making his hair stand up?
Was he using gel or something to make it stiff? Whatever it was, he gave off the
impression of having more energy than he knew what to do with.
There was a broadmouthed creature with tiger-like fur riding on Rock’s
shoulders, wrapped around his neck, but it was impressive that it didn’t fall off.
That creature was called a mirumi, and they were relatively common in
Grimgar. It turned out this one was Rock’s pet, and its name was Gettsu.
“Basically, she’s out for revenge,” said Rock. “Well, can you blame her? I
would be, too. The love of her life got done in by the guy. You guys’ve gotta
understand that. Right? Haruhiro? Yume?”
Haruhiro hung his head and furrowed his brow, sighing. “Well, yeah...”
“Hrm...” Yume puffed up one of her cheeks, tilting her head hard to one side.
The fog had thinned out a fair bit, but now it was gloomy instead. It was
quickly getting darker and darker. However, for a little while now, little green
lights had begun to dance around here and there. These insects, which were
apparently called rurakas, supposedly produced light from early evening until
late at night. It was a scene that had a sort of illusion-like beauty.
The fact that seeing it only made Haruhiro feel like, Yeah, but so what? made
him feel a little sad.
Sad? Actually, to be honest, Haruhiro was feeling pretty irritated.
With Rock carrying the wounded Arara, everyone had run away as hard as

they could on their own, and then they had regrouped here. Haruhiro had no
clue where “here” was, but they had apparently decided in advance that this
was the spot to meet back up if anything happened.

The big bald guy, Kajita, had his massive mushroom sword thrust into the
ground and was sitting cross-legged. He hadn’t so much as budged for a while
now. Had he fallen asleep while sitting? With him wearing sunglasses, it was
hard to tell.

The strongest dread knight in active service, Moyugi, was sitting on a bump in
the ground with one leg crossed over the other and drinking something from a
cup. Not that it mattered, but wasn’t he a little too relaxed? He was even giving
off the sense that he was having an elegant time.

Moira the demon wasn’t around. There was a “Noooooo...” every once in a
while though, so she was apparently hiding somewhere.

Why was Sakanami the thief lying face-down? Was he all right? Haruhiro was
a little concerned, but everyone else was ignoring him, so it was probably fine.
Besides, that guy was probably not quite right to begin with. Since he had never
been right, it was all right if he wasn’t all right.

When Tsuga, the priest with the buzz cut, finished treating Arara, he had
begun meditating in the lotus position. Since then, his eyes had stayed shut,
and he hadn’t moved.

Incidentally, Kuro, the former hunter, wasn’t here. He’d had a little business
to attend to, so he’d left on his own.

“We failed to avenge Tatsuru-sama.” Arara was sitting on a tree stump and
hanging her head in shame. “It was my fault. It’s because I was injured!”

“Don’t let it get you down, Arara.” Rock crouched down right in front of her.
“There’ll be other chances. We’ll make them for you. Okay?”

Gettsu the mirumi squeaked loudly. It was like both pet and owner alike were
trying to cheer Arara up.

“Thank you.” Arara sighed and looked up. “I am in your debt, Rock. How can I
ever repay you for this?”

“Silly Arara, you don’t need to think about that. We’re doing this because we
want to.”

“But...”

“Seriously, it’s all cool! Let’s just focus on beating down that Arnold guy for
now. Moyugi’ll come up with a way. We’ll follow Moyugi’s plan. If we fail, we’ll
just try again until we succeed. Simple, right?”

“When you are the one saying it, for some reason, it really does start to feel
that way.”

“There’s nothing hard about it,” Rock said confidently. “You just leave it to us.
The Rocks.”

“...However.” Arara looked down again, gripping her left arm tightly with her
right hand. “You people are under no obligation to help me seek vengeance...”

Haruhiro and Yume looked at one another.

Yeah, that, Haruhiro thought. That’s it. That’s the issue.

Arara’s beloved Tatsuru tried to kill Arnold, the enemy of the village, but was
defeated. Arara wants to avenge the man she loved. I get that. But where do
Rock and the Rocks come into this? They’re volunteer soldiers. Obviously, they’re
not from the village. This isn’t really their business, is it?

“Arara. Arara. Hey, Arara!” Rock suddenly stood up, spreading his arms wide.
Gettsu nearly fell of his shoulders, but managed to hold on somehow. “What’re
you acting like a stranger for? Of course we’re obliged to help! We totally are!”

“You say that, but we only met recently...” Arara began.

“Who cares?! Time has nothing to do with it!”

“If I hadn’t told you my circumstances back then, you wouldn’t have been
dragged into this...”

“We don’t feel like we’re being dragged into anything! Right, Moyugi?!”

“No. I very much feel I am.”

“Whaaaat?!” Rock shouted.

“Not that it’s anything new,” Moyugi added. “For as long as I keep working

with you people, I’ll keep getting dragged into trouble like this.”

“Ha! And you’re in the Rocks because you can’t get enough of it, right?”

“You’ve got that right,” said Moyugi. “Life’s too short to waste time on boring
stuff.”

Kajita gave them a thumbs-up. “Indeed.”

“Urgh...” Sakanami groaned and writhed around on the ground. He looked
like he was in pain.

Tsuga was meditating with a smile. Was he on the verge of enlightenment or
something?

There was... an awful lot Haruhiro could have humorously taken issue with
here. In fact, it felt like maybe there wasn’t a single thing he couldn’t have
taken issue with. If he were to sum up the reason the Rocks fought simply, they
were doing it on a whim. That was what Moyugi had said.

Ohh, thought Haruhiro. I see. I see.

These people are all weird.

They’re a band of weirdos.

He’d had the feeling they were. They weren’t ordinary people like Haruhiro
and his group, so there was no way they were normal. Besides, it probably
didn’t matter in the least to them whether a mediocre guy like Haruhiro
thought they were normal or not.

People who weren’t plain and ordinary were always a little extreme in some
way. Were they extreme to begin with, and that was what let them go beyond
mediocrity? Or when you went beyond the realm of mediocrity, did it make you
a little extreme? Or, perhaps, was it impossible to escape from mediocrity
without becoming extreme? Haruhiro didn’t really know.

Still, even if he didn’t understand it, that wasn’t going to cause him any
trouble. The dispositions and motivations of a band of weirdos like this weren’t
his problem. Or they wouldn’t be, except that he was currently in a situation
where he was forced to work with them.

“Murrgh...” Yume nodded, as if trying to forcefully convince herself she’d

figured it out. “Basically, here’s how it is, yeah? Rockun and all them only met
Araran a li’l while ago, but they’re dead set on helpin’ her, ’cause they’re good
guys, right?”

“Hm? Us? Good guys?” Rock looked at Yume and scowled.

Uh, that’s a serious bad guy look you’ve got going on there.

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?” Rock demanded. “You making fun of
us?”

“How’s sayin’ you’re good guys makin’ fun of you?” Yume wanted to know.

“Listen, Yume, being called a good guy isn’t a compliment, or anything.
Basically, it means they’re someone you don’t have to care about, right?”

“Yume wasn’t meanin’ it that way when she said it!”

“Oh, yeah? Well, we’re not good guys. We don’t look like we are, now do
we?”

“Yeah,” Yume agreed. “You don’t.”

“Ha ha ha! I know, right? We aren’t motivated by justice, fairness, morals, or
any of that stuff.”

“Well, what’re you all motivated by, then?” Yume asked.

“All sorts of things, really. But this time...” Rock brought his hands to his chest
with a look of pride. “It’s love.”

Haruhiro stared blankly.

“...Love?” he asked in disbelief.

“No, not love. It’s love, man. Love.”

Where’s the difference? It’s all the same word. Geez. Haruhiro felt a little
dizzy. He’s making no sense.

“...Huh? Wait, love... for whom?” Haruhiro asked.

“Well, for Arara, of course.”

“No... B-But...?” Haruhiro looked back and forth from Rock to Arara. Rock was
speaking proudly, but Arara must have been embarrassed, or not sure what to

say, because she was still looking down. “But, erm, Arara... -san had a lover,
didn’t she...? And it’s because of what happened to him that she’s doing this,
so...”

“Does that have anything to do with it?”

“Doesn’t it... have something to do with it? I mean, I don’t really have any
experience with this sort of stuff, so I wouldn’t know, but—”

“When we first met, Arara was carrying a katana. She suddenly jumped out of
the fog, and came swinging at us.”

“Th-That was—!” Arara pouted like a child. “...I-I was in a state of confusion.
Avenging Tatsuru-sama was the only thing on my mind, and I left the village
despite Uncle’s attempts to stop me, so I was convinced everything that moved
was my enemy...”

“She was beautiful,” Rock said with a broad grin. “Her hair was disheveled,
her face was a mask of rage, and she was crying a little. She got me good. It was
love at first sight. ‘Why is she crying? What happened? Is there anything I can
do for her?’ I couldn’t help but wonder.”

“She lit a fire in his heart,” Kajita said in a husky voice.

“That’s it.” Rock turned his fist towards Kajita. “With my heart and body
burning with the fires of love, there ain’t no man who can stop me. I’ll keep
running till I burn out.”

“He’s easily infatuated,” Moyugi said dismissively. “And it’s never with
someone he can have. What’s the allure of a woman you’ll never sleep with? I
can’t understand it.”

“That’s what’s boring about you, Moyugi,” said Rock. “If you give love to get
something in return, that isn’t love. It’s just lust, right? Well, that’s not what my
love is like. My love is given freely. I fell for Arara. I love her. That’s why I want
to make her wish come true. For that, I’d do anything. It gets you fired up,
doesn’t it? It’s fun, right? Right, Haruhiro? You get it?”

“No, I don’t get it.”

“You don’t?!”

“I, uh, don’t have much in the way of experience with romance, so...”

“Oh, so you’re a virgin!”

“...Is that such a surprise?”

“A virgin...” Yume was nodding along with a knowing look, but did she really
understand what that meant? Knowing Yume, wasn’t she misunderstanding it
somehow?

“Of all things, he had to be a virgin.” Rock clicked his tongue. “A virgin, huh. I
dunno if a virgin can get it...”

“Could you stop repeating that word...?” Haruhiro asked.

“Haruhiro.” Kajita looked at him and gave him a thumbs-up. “Beginner’s luck.”

“...I don’t understand.”

“Gyahahaha!” Sakanami suddenly started laughing as he writhed in agony.
“Hilarious! Virgin, virgin, rose gyatee! If they put you on the throne, you’d be
the Rose Emperor! A title fit for a premature ejaculator! Gyahahaha!”

“...I understand you even less.”

“Well, yeah,” Rock agreed, stroking Gettsu’s throat. “I didn’t really
understand it, either. Sakanami’s nuts. You should try not to get him mad,
Haruhiro, Yume. Even I have no idea what he might do.”

“...I’m amazed you can work with a guy like that,” Haruhiro said.

“Isn’t it interesting?”

“It’s a lot of trouble for me.” Moyugi passed the cup over to his left hand so
he could use the middle finger of his right hand to press on the bridge of his
glasses. “I have to include the guy in my calculations when putting together a
strategy.”

“Isn’t that what makes it interesting?” Rock asked.

“I won’t deny it.”

To sum things up, this was the situation:

The group had been motivated by Rock’s falling in love at first sight. Other

than that, the Rocks were helping Arara with her vengeance because it seemed
like it might be interesting. They really were doing it on a whim.

“So, when you joined the Day Breakers, was that because it seemed
interesting, too?” Haruhiro asked.

“That’s part of it.” Rock’s eyes narrowed, and both corners of his mouth
curled upwards. “We have another reason, too, though. I won’t tell you what it
is, Haruhiro.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“Isn’t it more interesting if I keep quiet about it? Oh—” Rock stopped, and
even before Rock did, Gettsu turned his head to the right. “Is that Kuro?”

Looking in that direction, there was a humanoid figure walking through the
evening gloom where the lights of the rurakas danced about. The figure was
approaching. It waved. It was Kuro.

“They weren’t there.” When Kuro came over and sat down next to Haruhiro,
looking exasperated, that was the first thing he said. “Went to that cave you
mentioned. No sign of your friends.”

“No way...” Haruhiro was at a loss for words. “B-But, hey, maybe you had the
wrong place?”

“Not a chance. That, what was it? That cave leading to another world, I
already had some idea where it was. And there were traces that someone had
been there.”

“Hrm...” Yume made a difficult face and pressed her index fingers into her
temples. “That means... What does it mean? Yume wonders...”

“Since you weren’t coming back, they probably went looking,” Kuro said.
“Then they got into trouble. Seems likely.”

“You say that so easily...” Haruhiro murmured.

“You people don’t even know the damn way there, and it’s easier and safer
for me to go alone anyway, so I went out of my way to go there for you. For
nothing, I might add.”

“...Sorry. I... guess you’re right. Thank you, Kuro-san.”